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twins.”
    He smiled—a small, sad smile. Of course, she’d known what he’d meant.
    His head cocked. “They in the family room?”
    Dusty looked away, feeling his gaze on her still as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. He was nervous. Why?
    “Where else?” She nodded in the direction of the voices. He’d been in their house hundreds of times and knew where everything was. She decided to bait him. “I’m sure they’re all in there talking about who killed Nick.”
    She intentionally used who instead of what, watching him to gauge his reaction, disappointed when she didn’t get one.
    “Dusty, stop.” He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs on the other side of the table, sitting without an invitation as he looked up at her. “I’m not the enemy here. I lost him too.”
    “Oh you want to talk about it now?”
    He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think we should?”
    “Fine. So where were you? Nick said you were picking him up that night.”
    “I did.” Shane traced the same blue flower pattern on the tablecloth Suzanne had. “We started drinking out at the path. Then we ran out of beer, so we headed over to the Starlite. But Nick didn’t want to leave.”
    “You left him at the path? You were his ride!”
    “He was with somebody,” he told her. “Said he had a ride. Told us he’d meet us there.”
    “With somebody? A girl?” Dusty asked, thinking of Suzanne. She and Nick had been in one of their on-again phases, although he’d mentioned having to break up with her after he started school.
    “He didn’t say.” Shane didn’t look up from the tablecloth. “He just said he had a ride and he’d meet up with us later. But he never showed.”
    She shook her head, incredulous. “So how did he end up in the cemetery on the whole other side of town?”
    Shane looked up and met her eyes. She saw something there, something that bothered her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
    “Everyone thought he was with you,” she reminded him, picking up the pack of Twizzlers Will Cougar had given her, tearing it open with her teeth. “That’s what he told me. That’s what he told our parents.”
    “Yeah, I know.” He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheeks with a deep sigh, watching her peel a long red stripe of licorice off. “Believe me, I know. I spent six hours in the sheriff’s office being interrogated about that night.”
    “So why didn’t they arrest you?” She gnashed her teeth on the twisted red rope, wishing it was his head. He watched, wearing a half-smile, like he knew just what she was thinking.
    “Because I didn’t kill him,” he told her softly over a bag of navel oranges.
    “You might as well have,” she retorted, tugging on the string of licorice with her teeth, only glancing at him to see his reaction. That time he did wince before he lowered his head and, while there was some satisfaction in it, she also felt a stab of guilt. She knew how vicious she could be with words and today she felt like she was carrying a very sharp blade—something precise and deadly.
    She chewed thoughtfully, not really even tasting anything, trying to decide whether or not she believed him. She wanted to blame someone and Shane seemed like the best target for her hostility. But did she think Shane had killed her brother? The truth was she didn’t, as much as she would have liked to blame him. Maybe Shane hadn’t killed him, but he wasn’t telling her the truth either. Why? What did he have to hide? Something didn’t feel quite right.
    “Do you think I’m not blaming myself?” He swallowed, not meeting her eyes. His gaze seemed focused on the lemon meringue pie on the table. “You can’t say anything to me I haven’t already thought. I wish we’d never gone out that night.”
    “So do I,” she agreed vehemently, thinking of how she’d implored Nick to stay. If he’d just chosen her over Shane, just that one time…
    “Dusty, I’m